What I log about when I log about books
*puff puff*
231. In Your Face, Scarlett Thomas - Three women are murdered in quick succession. The only thing they have in common is that they are all featured in a magazine article hitting newsstands the day of the murder. Still trying to live down her 15 minutes of fame from having solved the murder in Dead Clever, Lily Pascale agrees to come to London to help an old friend from university, who penned the article, figure out what’s going on.
I enjoyed this more than the previous one. Thomas’ prose is compulsively readable, as usual, and the plot here was less ridiculous and convoluted, which I appreciated. There were two rather painfully headdesky moments-one in which Lily is challenged to solve a puzzle with a solution that’s hilariously obvious, and then everyone is incredibly impressed when she pulls it off, as we the readers are surely also supposed to be; and one “allow me to fall into your clutches, evil murderer!” incident that made it hard for me to suppress a bellow of frustration while on the bus. But in general this is a well-written mystery with a complex and interesting amateur female detective at its core.
323. Amulet: The Stonekeeper, Kazu Kibuishi - This graphic novel opens with one of the most frightening and heartbreaking car accidents I have ever seen textually or graphically rendered, which gives you a pretty good idea right off that this isn’t your typical comic book or YA fantasy fare. It’s also got tentacle monsters and a cool steampunky vibe. I only wish it weren’t so slight: this is just volume one, which means reading it is kind of like watching the pilot for a new TV show…and then not getting to see episode two for months and months and months. (And then only for an additional $15 or whatever-how does anybody afford these things?)
But this is definitely a series with promise. I hope I get to continue with it.
233. Iron Man: Hypervelocity, Adam Warren - Iron Man does cyberpunk. There were a few good moments of humor in this, but for the most part my reaction was similar to what it (sadly?) is for most examples of that genre: huh? Sadly, this level of persistent, rapid-fire technobabble makes my poor, inadequate wetware brain hurt.
234. A Reader’s Manifesto, B.R. Myers - A nice antidote to the Cormac McCarthy I read a couple weeks before. Myers takes on five critically acclaimed American authors, including McCarthy, with an argument against what he sees as the growing devotion to pretension among the American literary establishment. It’s not just the authors who are under fire here; if anything, Myers directs the bulk of his criticism toward critics themselves, who, he says, laud only the most convoluted, turgid prose stylists and continue to promote the same authors once they are accepted to be part of the literary elite. I have to say, I’m inclined toward Myers’ point of view. I don’t agree with everything he says, but I think he presents his argument clearly and amusingly and I have to admit that I’ve been equally puzzled as to why (to pick on poor Cormac again) long, difficult to parse passages about horses farting are considered great literature.
Myers also includes a chapter in which he rebuts his critics’ response to the original essay, published in a shorter form in The Atlantic Monthly. I tend to think that this sort of thing can too easily become petty and lower the tone of the overall discussion-it’s total “someone is wrong on the internet!” territory-but I empathize; a lot of the reactions Myers quotes do frustratingly miss the point, or read like they’re responding to another essay entirely. (Maybe Pierre Bayard’s way-less-enjoyable How to Talk About Books You Haven’t Read?) Myers’ argument isn’t against reading-or even against “literature”; he did, admittedly, make me feel less inclined to pick up anything by Don DeLillo anytime soon, but he also made me really want to read some Balzac. Fair trade, I say.
235. Out of Time, Caroline B. Cooney - Oh dear. This represents a serious drop in quality from its predecessor. Cooney allows the melodrama to totally take over: there are Victorian mental hospitals! And teenage girls struck down by tuberculosis! And dastardly dudes plotting dastardly deeds! With the rapid intercutting between various characters, all of whom are separated from each other for one reason or another, it even reads like a soap opera: short scene-short scene-dramatic sting! Commercial/chapter break.
I’m also annoyed that Cooney apparently decided she was writing herself into a corner with the ending of Both Sides of Time, in which Annie realizes she’s being thrust backward instead of back to the future. But rather than include even a two-line explanation on how Annie got herself out of that one, Cooney just decides to ignore it. NOT COOL.
I’d probably give up right here, except the next one (finally!) involves one of those crazy Strattons coming forward in time. Way to suck me back in, Cooney. Way to suck me back in.
236. What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, Haruki Murakami - Yet another way in which Haruki Murakami is more awesome than you: not only does he write amazing novels and nifty short stories, he’s also a long-distance runner who’s raced in marathons, triathalons, and even a day-long supermarathon in Hokkaido. This book, the first piece of nonfiction I’ve read by him, chronicles a year in his life as a runner. I liked it less than his fiction. Parts are slow: the endless tally serious runners have to make of distances run in such-and-such lengths of time. I liked the book best when Murakami was talking about a specific event, such as running the original marathon course in Greece-when he was telling a story, in other words. I also really liked when he talked about being a novelist in comparison to being a runner-both require discipline and the ability to go the distance. This book is one of the things that inspired me to work on my own stupid novel every damn day.
I’m glad I read this, but I wouldn’t recommend it unless you’re a) really into running or b) have recently become a big Murakami fangirl, like some people I could mention.
237. Prisoner of Time, Caroline B. Cooney - Much better than Out of Time, although I still feel these books are getting sillier and sillier. I was also disappointed that Devonny-in-the-future took up so little of the narrative, but that’s more of a personal thing. What I did like: that Cooney doesn’t make the Devonny/Tod infatuation out to be more than it was, and the little redemption arc of Devonny’s cold, callous English fiancé. I am a sucker for that crap.
Actually, apply that last sentence to my relationship with these books IN GENERAL, and it’s possible that truer words have never, at any time, been spoken.
238. Dave Barry’s Book of Bad Songs, Dave Barry - I find myself compelled to reread this book at least once a year. It never stops being funny.
239. Dark Water, Koji Suzuki - A collection of horror short stories by the author whose work was adapted to make The Ring and, well, Dark Water. The story that was the basis for the latter opens this collection and sets the tone for it as well. All of these stories involve creepiness in, on, or related to water in some way, and if you had to pick a single theme most likely to scare the crap out of me, water would be it. This is why I can’t put any stock in astrological signs: I’m a Pisces, and nothing skeeves me out more than a body of water I can’t see to the bottom of. The idea of something lurking beneath the surface…brr.
Does Suzuki take advantage of this fantastic set-up? Yes and no. In at least half the stories, he manages to create a lingering image, something that truly defines horror: endless clumps of human hair working their way free from a clogged drain in a deserted bathroom; the head wound of a dead spelunker becoming crystallized to the rock as his feet dangle into the cavern below; a little girl slowly rotting in the water tank that feeds an entire building. But like a lot of horror writers, he fumbles the dismount. In many of these stories, there’s fantastic atmosphere that just…goes nowhere, or goes exactly where you knew it would, without any last twist or final scare to take you over the top. These stories are still creepy and effective, but with the potential there for Suzuki to dive deep, I felt the collection stayed disappointingly shallow.
240. Laughing Gas, P.G. Wodehouse - P.G. Wodehouse writes bodyswap fic! This I had to see. It was, as expected, quite amusing; however-shameful confession time-as with most of the other Wodehouse I’ve read, including the Jeeves and Wooster novels, it started to wear me out about halfway through. His books are super funny and then…I just lose interest. Is this condition diagnosable? Is there someone I should see?
241. The Devil’s Whisper, Miyuki Miyabe - Three women are murdered in quick succession. The only thing they have in common is that they are all featured in the same magazine article…wait a minute, does this sound familiar? Yeah, weirdly, this mystery’s plot is (initially) very similar to that of In Your Face. (They even each feature a death by pushed-in-front-of-a-train!) I don’t think there’s any significance to this; it’s just odd that I should choose to read these two books, for two entirely different reasons, within about a week of each other. It’s not like I was seeking out reading material with a “women featured in magazines found murdered” theme!
Anyway, beyond the murders, this novel is really a sort of coming-of-age story, with teenage Mamoru doing some amateur sleuthing and trying to come to terms with his father’s betrayal. There’s also some stuff about hypnosis which becomes increasingly ridiculous the more you think about it-Fridge Logic is not this book’s friend-but Miyabe does such a good job with atmosphere that while you’re reading, at least, you’re easily pulled along. I look forward to checking out more of her work.
Total Reviews: 241/277
231. In Your Face, Scarlett Thomas - Three women are murdered in quick succession. The only thing they have in common is that they are all featured in a magazine article hitting newsstands the day of the murder. Still trying to live down her 15 minutes of fame from having solved the murder in Dead Clever, Lily Pascale agrees to come to London to help an old friend from university, who penned the article, figure out what’s going on.
I enjoyed this more than the previous one. Thomas’ prose is compulsively readable, as usual, and the plot here was less ridiculous and convoluted, which I appreciated. There were two rather painfully headdesky moments-one in which Lily is challenged to solve a puzzle with a solution that’s hilariously obvious, and then everyone is incredibly impressed when she pulls it off, as we the readers are surely also supposed to be; and one “allow me to fall into your clutches, evil murderer!” incident that made it hard for me to suppress a bellow of frustration while on the bus. But in general this is a well-written mystery with a complex and interesting amateur female detective at its core.
323. Amulet: The Stonekeeper, Kazu Kibuishi - This graphic novel opens with one of the most frightening and heartbreaking car accidents I have ever seen textually or graphically rendered, which gives you a pretty good idea right off that this isn’t your typical comic book or YA fantasy fare. It’s also got tentacle monsters and a cool steampunky vibe. I only wish it weren’t so slight: this is just volume one, which means reading it is kind of like watching the pilot for a new TV show…and then not getting to see episode two for months and months and months. (And then only for an additional $15 or whatever-how does anybody afford these things?)
But this is definitely a series with promise. I hope I get to continue with it.
233. Iron Man: Hypervelocity, Adam Warren - Iron Man does cyberpunk. There were a few good moments of humor in this, but for the most part my reaction was similar to what it (sadly?) is for most examples of that genre: huh? Sadly, this level of persistent, rapid-fire technobabble makes my poor, inadequate wetware brain hurt.
234. A Reader’s Manifesto, B.R. Myers - A nice antidote to the Cormac McCarthy I read a couple weeks before. Myers takes on five critically acclaimed American authors, including McCarthy, with an argument against what he sees as the growing devotion to pretension among the American literary establishment. It’s not just the authors who are under fire here; if anything, Myers directs the bulk of his criticism toward critics themselves, who, he says, laud only the most convoluted, turgid prose stylists and continue to promote the same authors once they are accepted to be part of the literary elite. I have to say, I’m inclined toward Myers’ point of view. I don’t agree with everything he says, but I think he presents his argument clearly and amusingly and I have to admit that I’ve been equally puzzled as to why (to pick on poor Cormac again) long, difficult to parse passages about horses farting are considered great literature.
Myers also includes a chapter in which he rebuts his critics’ response to the original essay, published in a shorter form in The Atlantic Monthly. I tend to think that this sort of thing can too easily become petty and lower the tone of the overall discussion-it’s total “someone is wrong on the internet!” territory-but I empathize; a lot of the reactions Myers quotes do frustratingly miss the point, or read like they’re responding to another essay entirely. (Maybe Pierre Bayard’s way-less-enjoyable How to Talk About Books You Haven’t Read?) Myers’ argument isn’t against reading-or even against “literature”; he did, admittedly, make me feel less inclined to pick up anything by Don DeLillo anytime soon, but he also made me really want to read some Balzac. Fair trade, I say.
235. Out of Time, Caroline B. Cooney - Oh dear. This represents a serious drop in quality from its predecessor. Cooney allows the melodrama to totally take over: there are Victorian mental hospitals! And teenage girls struck down by tuberculosis! And dastardly dudes plotting dastardly deeds! With the rapid intercutting between various characters, all of whom are separated from each other for one reason or another, it even reads like a soap opera: short scene-short scene-dramatic sting! Commercial/chapter break.
I’m also annoyed that Cooney apparently decided she was writing herself into a corner with the ending of Both Sides of Time, in which Annie realizes she’s being thrust backward instead of back to the future. But rather than include even a two-line explanation on how Annie got herself out of that one, Cooney just decides to ignore it. NOT COOL.
I’d probably give up right here, except the next one (finally!) involves one of those crazy Strattons coming forward in time. Way to suck me back in, Cooney. Way to suck me back in.
236. What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, Haruki Murakami - Yet another way in which Haruki Murakami is more awesome than you: not only does he write amazing novels and nifty short stories, he’s also a long-distance runner who’s raced in marathons, triathalons, and even a day-long supermarathon in Hokkaido. This book, the first piece of nonfiction I’ve read by him, chronicles a year in his life as a runner. I liked it less than his fiction. Parts are slow: the endless tally serious runners have to make of distances run in such-and-such lengths of time. I liked the book best when Murakami was talking about a specific event, such as running the original marathon course in Greece-when he was telling a story, in other words. I also really liked when he talked about being a novelist in comparison to being a runner-both require discipline and the ability to go the distance. This book is one of the things that inspired me to work on my own stupid novel every damn day.
I’m glad I read this, but I wouldn’t recommend it unless you’re a) really into running or b) have recently become a big Murakami fangirl, like some people I could mention.
237. Prisoner of Time, Caroline B. Cooney - Much better than Out of Time, although I still feel these books are getting sillier and sillier. I was also disappointed that Devonny-in-the-future took up so little of the narrative, but that’s more of a personal thing. What I did like: that Cooney doesn’t make the Devonny/Tod infatuation out to be more than it was, and the little redemption arc of Devonny’s cold, callous English fiancé. I am a sucker for that crap.
Actually, apply that last sentence to my relationship with these books IN GENERAL, and it’s possible that truer words have never, at any time, been spoken.
238. Dave Barry’s Book of Bad Songs, Dave Barry - I find myself compelled to reread this book at least once a year. It never stops being funny.
239. Dark Water, Koji Suzuki - A collection of horror short stories by the author whose work was adapted to make The Ring and, well, Dark Water. The story that was the basis for the latter opens this collection and sets the tone for it as well. All of these stories involve creepiness in, on, or related to water in some way, and if you had to pick a single theme most likely to scare the crap out of me, water would be it. This is why I can’t put any stock in astrological signs: I’m a Pisces, and nothing skeeves me out more than a body of water I can’t see to the bottom of. The idea of something lurking beneath the surface…brr.
Does Suzuki take advantage of this fantastic set-up? Yes and no. In at least half the stories, he manages to create a lingering image, something that truly defines horror: endless clumps of human hair working their way free from a clogged drain in a deserted bathroom; the head wound of a dead spelunker becoming crystallized to the rock as his feet dangle into the cavern below; a little girl slowly rotting in the water tank that feeds an entire building. But like a lot of horror writers, he fumbles the dismount. In many of these stories, there’s fantastic atmosphere that just…goes nowhere, or goes exactly where you knew it would, without any last twist or final scare to take you over the top. These stories are still creepy and effective, but with the potential there for Suzuki to dive deep, I felt the collection stayed disappointingly shallow.
240. Laughing Gas, P.G. Wodehouse - P.G. Wodehouse writes bodyswap fic! This I had to see. It was, as expected, quite amusing; however-shameful confession time-as with most of the other Wodehouse I’ve read, including the Jeeves and Wooster novels, it started to wear me out about halfway through. His books are super funny and then…I just lose interest. Is this condition diagnosable? Is there someone I should see?
241. The Devil’s Whisper, Miyuki Miyabe - Three women are murdered in quick succession. The only thing they have in common is that they are all featured in the same magazine article…wait a minute, does this sound familiar? Yeah, weirdly, this mystery’s plot is (initially) very similar to that of In Your Face. (They even each feature a death by pushed-in-front-of-a-train!) I don’t think there’s any significance to this; it’s just odd that I should choose to read these two books, for two entirely different reasons, within about a week of each other. It’s not like I was seeking out reading material with a “women featured in magazines found murdered” theme!
Anyway, beyond the murders, this novel is really a sort of coming-of-age story, with teenage Mamoru doing some amateur sleuthing and trying to come to terms with his father’s betrayal. There’s also some stuff about hypnosis which becomes increasingly ridiculous the more you think about it-Fridge Logic is not this book’s friend-but Miyabe does such a good job with atmosphere that while you’re reading, at least, you’re easily pulled along. I look forward to checking out more of her work.
Total Reviews: 241/277